Chapter 2
Crossing the Cumberland Mountains

I had climbed but a short distance when I was overtaken by a young man
on horse-back, who soon showed that he intended to rob me if he should
find the job worth while. After he had inquired where I came from, and
where I was going, he offered to carry my bag. I told him that it was so
light that I did not feel it at all a burden; but he insisted and coaxed
until I allowed him to carry it. As soon as he had gained possession I
noticed that he gradually increased his speed, evidently trying to get
far enough ahead of me to examine the contents without being observed.
But I was too good a walker and runner for him to get far. At a turn of
the road, after trotting his horse for about half an hour, and when he
thought he was out of sight, I caught him rummaging my poor bag. Finding
there only a comb, brush, towel, soap, a change of underclothing, a copy
of Burns's poems, Milton's Paradise Lost, and a small New Testament,
he waited for me, handed back my bag, and returned down the hill, saying
that he had forgotten something.

I found splendid growths of shining-leaved
Ericaceae
[heathworts]
for which the Alleghany Mountains are noted. Also ferns of which
Osmunda
cinnamomea
[Cinnamon Fern] is the largest and perhaps the most abundant.
Osmunda regalis
[Flowering Fern] is also common here, but not large.
In Wood's
1
and Gray's Botany
Osmunda cinnamomea is
said to be a much
larger fern than
Osmunda Claytoniana,
This I found to be true in
Tennessee and southward, but in Indiana, part of Illinois, and Wisconsin
the opposite is true. Found here the beautiful, sensitive
Schrankia,
or sensitive brier. It is a long, prickly, leguminous vine, with dense
heads of small, yellow fragrant flowers.

Vines growing on roadsides
receive many a tormenting blow, simply because they give evidence of feeling.
Sensitive people are served in the same way. But the roadside vine soon
becomes less sensitive, like people getting used to teasing
-- Nature, in
this instance, making for the comfort of flower creatures the same benevolent
arrangement as for man. Thus I found that the
Schrankia
vines growing
along foot-paths leading to a backwoods schoolhouse were much less sensitive
than those in the adjacent unfrequented woods, having learned to pay but
slight attention to the tingling strokes they get from teasing scholars.

It is startling to see the pairs of pinnate leaves rising quickly out
of the grass and folding themselves close in regular succession from the
root to the end of the prostrate stems, ten to twenty feet in length. How
little we know as yet of the life of plants
-- their hopes and fears, pains
and enjoyments!

Traveled a few miles with an old Tennessee farmer who was much excited
on account of the
news he had just heard. "Three kingdoms,
England, Ireland, and Russia, have declared war agin the United States.
Oh, it's terrible, terrible," said he. "This big war comin' so
quick after our own big fight. Well, it can't be helped, and all I have
to say is, Amerricay forever, but I'd a heap rather they did n't fight."

"But are you sure the news is true?" I inquired. "Oh,
yes, quite sure," he replied, "for me and some of my neighbors
were down at the store last night, and Jim Smith can read, and he found
out all about it in a newspaper."

Passed the poor, rickety, thrice-dead village of Jamestown, an incredibly
dreary place. Toward the top of the Cumberland grade, about two hours before
sundown I came to a log house, and as I had been warned that all the broad
plateau of the range for forty or fifty miles was desolate, I began thus
early to seek a lodging for the night. Knocking at the door, a motherly
old lady replied to my request for supper and bed and breakfast, that I
was welcome to the best she had, provided that I had the necessary
change to pay my bill. When I told her that unfortunately I had nothing
smaller than a five-dollar greenback, she said, "Well, I'm sorry,
but cannot afford to keep you. Not long ago ten soldiers came across from
North Carolina, and in the morning they offered a greenback that I could
n't change, and so I got nothing for keeping them, which I was ill able
to afford." "Very well," I said, "I'm glad you spoke
of this beforehand, for I would rather go hungry than impose on your hospitality."

As I turned to leave, after bidding her good-bye, she, evidently pitying
me for my tired looks, called me back and asked me if I would like a drink
of milk. This I gladly accepted, thinking that perhaps I might not be successful
in getting any other nourishment for a day or two. Then I inquired whether
there were any more houses on the road, nearer than North Carolina, forty
or fifty miles away. "Yes," she said, "it's only two miles
to the next house, but beyond that there are no houses that I know of except
empty ones whose owners
have been killed or driven away during the
war."

Arriving at the last house, my knock at the door was answered by a bright,
good-natured, good-looking little woman, who in reply to my request for
a night's lodging and food, said, "Oh, I guess so. I think you can
stay. Come in and my husband." "But I must first warn you,"
I said, "that I have nothing smaller to offer you than a five-dollar
bill for my entertainment. I don't want you to think that I am trying to
impose on your hospitality."

She then called her husband, a blacksmith, who was at work at his forge.
He came out, hammer in hand, bare-breasted, sweaty, bell grimed, and covered
with shaggy black hair. In reply to his wife's statement, that this young
man wished to stop over night, he quickly replied, "That's all right;
tell him to go into the house." He was turning to go back to his shop,
when his wife added, "But he says he has n't any change to pay. He
has nothing smaller than a five-dollar bill." Hesitating only a moment,
he turned on his heel and said, "Tell him to go into the house.
A man that comes right out like that beforehand is welcome to eat my bread."

When he came in after his hard day's work and sat down to dinner, he
solemnly asked a blessing on the frugal meal, consisting solely of corn
bread and bacon. Then, looking across the table at me, he said, "Young
man, what are you doing down here?" I replied that I was looking at
plants. "Plants? What kind of plants?" I said, "Oh, all
kinds; grass, weeds, flowers, trees, mosses, ferns,
-- almost everything
that grows is interesting to me."

"Well, young man," he queried, "you mean to say that
you are not employed by the Government on some private business?"
"No," I said, "I am not employed by any one except just
myself. I love all kinds of plants, and I came down here to these Southern
States to get acquainted with as many of them as possible." "You
look like a strong-minded man," he replied, "and surely you are
able to do something
better than wander over the country and look
at weeds and blossoms. These are hard times,
and real work is required of every man that is able. Picking up blossoms
does n't seem to be a man's work at all in any kind of times."

To this I replied, "You are a believer in the Bible, are you not?"
"Oh, yes." "Well, you know Solomon was a strong-minded man,
and he is generally believed to have been the very wisest man the world
ever saw, and yet he considered it was worth while to study plants; not
only to go and pick them up as I am doing, but to study them; and you know
we are told that he wrote a book about plants, not only of the great cedars
of Lebanon, but of little bits of things growing in the cracks of the walls.
2

"Therefore, you see that Solomon differed very much more from you
than from me in this matter. I'll warrant you he had many a long ramble
in the mountains of Judea, and had he
been a Yankee he would likely
have visited every weed in the land. And again, do you not remember that
Christ told his disciples to 'consider the lilies how they grow,' and compared
their beauty with Solomon in all his glory? Now, whose advice am I to take,
yours or Christ's? Christ says, 'Consider the lilies.' You say, 'Don't
consider them. It is n't worth while for any strong-minded man."'

This evidently satisfied him, and he acknowledged that he had never
thought of blossoms in that way before. He repeated again and again that
I must be a very strong-minded man, and admitted that no doubt I was fully
justified in picking up blossoms. He then told me that although the war
was over, walking across the Cumberland Mountains still was far from safe
on account of small bands of guerrillas who were in hiding along the roads,
and earnestly entreated me to turn back and not to think of walking so
far as the Gulf of Mexico until the country became quiet and orderly once
more.

I replied that I had no fear, that I had but
very little to lose,
and that nobody was likely to think it worth while to rob me; that, anyhow,
I always had good luck. In the morning he repeated the warning and entreated
me to turn back, which never for a moment interfered with my resolution
to pursue my glorious walk.

September 11.
Long stretch of level sand-stone plateau, lightly
furrowed and dimpled with shallow groove-like valleys and hills. The trees
are mostly oaks, planted wide apart like those in the Wisconsin woods.
A good many pine trees here and there, forty to eighty feet high, and most
of the ground is covered with showy flowers. Polygalas [milkworts], solidagoes
[goldenrods], and asters were especially abundant. I came to a cool clear
brook every half mile or so, the banks planted with
Osmunda regalia,
Osmunda cinnamomea,
and hand-some sedges. The few larger streams were
fringed with laurels and azaleas. Large areas beneath the trees are covered
with formidable green briers and brambles, armed with hooked claws, and
almost impenetrable. Houses are
far apart and uninhabited, orchards
and fences in ruins
-- sad marks of war.

About noon my road became dim and at last vanished among desolate fields.
Lost and hungry, I knew my direction but could not keep it on account of
the briers. My path was indeed strewn with flowers, but as thorny, also,
as mortal ever trod. In trying to force a way through these cat-plants
one is not simply clawed and pricked through all one's clothing, but caught
and held fast. The toothed arching branches come down over and above you
like cruel living arms, and the more you struggle the more desperately
you are entangled, and your wounds deepened and multiplied. The South has
plant fly-catchers. It also has plant man-catchers.

After a great deal of defensive fighting and struggling I escaped to
a road and a house, but failed to find food or shelter. Towards sundown,
as I was walking rapidly along a straight stretch in the road, I suddenly
came in sight of ten mounted men riding abreast. They undoubtedly
had seen me before I discovered them, for they had stopped their horses
and were evidently watching me. I saw at once that it was useless to attempt
to avoid them, for the ground thereabout was quite open. I knew that there
was nothing for it but to face them fearlessly, without showing the slightest
suspicion of foul play. Therefore, without halting even for a moment, I
advanced rapidly with long strides as though I intended to walk through
the midst of them. When I got within a rod or so I looked up in their faces
and smilingly bade them "Howdy." Stopping never an instant, I
turned to one side and walked around them to get on the road again, and
kept on without venturing to look back or to betray the slightest fear
of being robbed.

After I had gone about one hundred or one hundred and fifty yards, I
ventured a quick glance back, without stopping, and saw in this flash of
an eye that all the ten had turned their horses toward me and were evidently
talking about me; supposedly, with reference to what
my object was,
where I was going, and whether it would be worth while to rob me. They
all were mounted on rather scrawny horses, and all wore long hair hanging
down on their shoulders. Evidently they belonged to the most irreclaimable
of the guerrilla bands who, long accustomed to plunder, deplored the coming
of peace. I was not followed, however, probably because the plants projecting
from my plant press made them believe that I was a poor herb doctors a
common occupation in these mountain regions.

About dark I discovered, a
little off the road, another house, inhabited by negroes, where I succeeded
in obtaining a much needed meal of string beans, buttermilk, and corn bread.
At the table I was seated in a bottomless chair, and as I became sore and
heavy, I sank deeper and deeper, pressing my knees against my breast, and
my mouth settled to the level of my plate. But wild hunger cares for none
of these things, and my curiously compressed position prevented the too
free indulgence of boisterous appetite. Of course, I was compelled to sleep
with the trees in the one great bedroom of the open night.

September 12.
Awoke drenched with mountain mist, which made a
grand show, as it moved away before the hot sun. Passed Montgomery, a shabby
village at the head of the east slope of the Cumberland Mountains. Obtained
breakfast in a clean house and began the descent of the mountains. Obtained
fine views of a wide, open country, and distant flanking ridges and spurs.
Crossed a wide cool stream [Emory River], a branch of the Clinch River.
There is nothing more eloquent in Nature than a mountain stream, and this
is the first I ever saw. Its banks are luxuriantly peopled with rare and
lovely flowers and overarching trees, making one of Nature's coolest and
most hospitable places. Every tree, every flower, every ripple and eddy
of this lovely stream seemed solemnly to feel the presence of the great
Creator. Lingered in this sanctuary a long time thanking the Lord with
all my heart for his goodness in allowing me to enter and enjoy it.

Discovered two ferns,
Dicksonia
and a small matted polypod on
trees, common farther South.
Also a species of magnolia with very large leaves and scarlet conical fruit.
Near this stream I spent some joyous time in a grand rock-dwelling
full of mosses, birds, and flowers. Most heavenly place I ever entered.
The long narrow valleys of the mountainside, all well watered and nobly
adorned with oaks, magnolias, laurels, azaleas, asters, ferns, Hypnum mosses,
Madotheca [Scale-mosses], etc. Also towering clumps of beautiful hemlocks.
The hemlock, judging from the common species of Canada, I regarded as the
least noble of the conifers. But those of the eastern valleys of the Cumberland
Mountains are as perfect in form and regal in port as the pines themselves.
The latter abundant. Obtained fine glimpses from open places as I descended
to the great valley between these mountains and the Unaka Mountains on
the state line. Forded the Clinch, a beautiful clear stream, that knows
many of the dearest mountain retreats that ever heard the
music of
running water. Reached Kingston before dark. Sent back my plant collections
by express to my brother in Wisconsin.

September 15.
Walked all day across small parallel valleys that
flute the surface of the one wide valley. These flutings appear to have
been formed by lateral pressure, are fertile, and contain some fine forms,
though the seal of war is on all things. The roads never seem to proceed
with any fixed purpose, but wander as if lost. In seeking the way to Philadelphia
[in Loudon County, Tennessee], I was told by a buxom Tennessee "gal"
that over the hills was much the nearer way, that she always went
that way, and that surely I could travel it.

I started over the flint-ridges, but soon reached a set of enchanted
little valleys among which, no matter how or in what direction I traveled,
I could not get a foot nearer to Philadelphia. At last, consulting my map
and compass, I neglected all directions and finally reached the house of
a negro driver, with whom I put up for the night. Received a good deal
of
knowledge which may be of use should I ever be a negro teamster.

September 14.
Philadelphia is a very filthy village in a beautiful
situation. More or less of pine. Black oak most abundant.
Polypodium
hexagonopterum
and
Abspidium acrostichoides
[Christmas Fern]
most abundant of ferns and most generally distributed.
Osmunda claytoniana
rare, not in fruit, small.
Dicksonia
abundant, after leaving
the Cumberland Mountains.
Asplenium ebeneum
[Ebony Spleenwort] quite
common in Tennessee and many parts of Kentucky
.
Cystopteris
[Bladder Fern],
and
Asplenium filix-foemina
not common through the same range
.
Pteris aquilina
[Common Brake] abundant, but small.

Walked through many a leafy valley, shady Prove, and cool brooklet.
Reached Madisonville, a brisk village. Came in full view of the Unaka Mountains,
a magnificent sight. Stayed over night with a pleasant young farmer.

September 15.
Most glorious billowy mountain scenery. Made many
a halt at open places
to take breath and to admire. The road, in many
places cut into the rock, goes winding about among the knobs and gorges.
Dense growth of asters, liatris
3
, and grapevines.

Reached a house before night, and asked leave to stop. "Well, you're
welcome to stop," said the mountaineer, "if you think you can
live till morning on what I have to live on all the time." Found the
old gentleman very communicative. Was favored with long "bar"
stories, deer hunts, etc., and in the morning was pressed to stay a day
or two.

September 16.
"I will take you," said he, "to
the highest ridge in the country, where you can see both ways. you will
have a view of all the world on one side of the mountains and all creation
on the other. Besides, you, who are traveling for curiosity and wonder,
ought to see our gold mines. I agreed to stay and went to the mines.
Gold is found in small quantities throughout the Alleghanies, and many
farmers work at mining a few weeks or months every year when their time
is not more valuable for other pursuits. In this neighborhood miners are
earning from half a dollar to two dollars a day. There are several large
quartz mills not far from here. Common labor is worth ten dollars a month.

September 17.
Spent the day in botanizing, blacksmithing and
examining a grist mill. Grist mills, in the less settled parts of Tennessee
and North Carolina, are remarkably simple affairs. A small stone, that
a man might carry under his arm, is fastened to the vertical shaft of a
little home-made, boyish-looking back-action water-wheel, which, with a
hopper and a box to receive the meal, is the whole affair The walls of
the mill are of undressed poles cut from seedling trees and there is no
floor, as lumber is dear. No dam is built. The water is conveyed along
some hillside until sufficient
fall is obtained, a thing easily done
in the mountains.

On Sundays you may see wild, unshorn, uncombed men coming out of the
woods, each with a bag of corn on his back. From a peck to a bushel is
a common grist. They go to the mill along verdant footpaths, winding up
and down over hill and valley, and crossing many a rhododendron glen. The
flowers and shining leaves brush against their shoulders and knees, occasionally
knocking off their coon-skin caps. The first arrived throws his corn into
the hopper, turns on the water, and goes to the house. After chatting and
smoking he returns to see if his grist is done. Should the stones run empty
for an hour or two, it does no harm.

This is a fair average in equipment and capacity of a score of mills
that I saw in Tennessee. This one was built by John Vohn, who claimed that
he could make it grind twenty bushels a day. But since it fell into other
hands it can be made to grind only ten per day. All the machines of Kentucky
and Tennessee are
far behind the age. There is scarce a trace of that
restless spirit of speculation and invention so characteristic of the North.
But one way of doing things obtains here, as if laws had been passed making
attempts at improvement a crime. Spinning and weaving are done in every
one of these mountain cabins wherever the least pretensions are made to
thrift and economy. The practice of these ancient arts they deem marks
of advancement rather than of backwardness. "There's a place back
heah," said my worthy entertainer, "whar there's a mill-house,
an' a store-house, an' a still-house, an' a spring-house, an' a blacksmith
shop
-- all in the same yard! Cows too, an' heaps of big gals a-milkin' them."

This is the most primitive county I have seen, primitive in everything.
The remotest hidden parts of Wisconsin are far in advance of the mountain
regions of Tennessee and North Carolina. But my host speaks of the "old-fashioned
unenlightened times," like a philosopher in the best light of civilization.
"I
believe in Providence," said he. "Our fathers came
into these valleys, got the richest of them, and skimmed off the cream
of the soil. The worn-out ground won't yield no roastin' ears now. But the Lord
foresaw this state of affairs, and prepared something else for us. And
what is it? Why, He meant us to bust open these copper mines and gold mines,
so that we may have money to buy the corn that we cannot raise." A
most profound observation.

September 18
. Up the mountain on the state line. The scenery
is far grander than any I ever before beheld. The view extends from the
Cumberland Mountains on the north far into Georgia and North Carolina to
the south, an area of about five thousand square miles. Such an ocean of
wooded, waving, swelling mountain beauty and grandeur is not to be described.
Countless forest-clad hills, side by side in rows and groups, seemed to
be enjoying the rich sunshine and remaining motionless only bell cause
they were so eagerly absorbing it. All were united by curves and slopes
of inimitable
softness and beauty. Oh, these forest gardens of our
Father! What perfection, what divinity, in their architecture! What simplicity
and mysterious complexity of detail! Who shall read the teaching of these
sylvan pages, the glad brotherhood of rills that sing in the valleys, and
all the happy creatures that dwell in them under the tender keeping of
a Father's care?

September 19.
Received another solemn warning of dangers on my
way through the mountains. Was told by my worthy entertainer of a wondrous
gap in the mountains which he advised me to see. "It is called Track
Gap," said he, "from the great number of tracks in the rocks
bird tracks, bar tracks, hoss tracks, men tracks, all in the solid rock
as if it had been mud." Bidding farewell to my worthy mountaineer
and all his comfortable wonders, I pursued my way to the South.

As I was leaving, he repeated the warnings of danger ahead, saying that
there were a good many people living like wild beasts on whatever
they could steal, and that murders were sometimes committed for four or
five dollars, and even less. While stopping with him I noticed that a man
came regularly after dark to the house for his supper. He was armed with
a gun, a pistol, and a long knife. My host told me that this man was at
feud with one of his neighbors, and that they were prepared to shoot one
another at sight. That neither of them could do any regular work or sleep
in the same place two nights in succession. That they visited houses only
for food, and as soon as the one that I saw had got his supper he went
out and slept in the woods, without of course making a fire. His enemy
did the same.

My entertainer told me that he was trying to make peace between these
two men, because they both were good men, and if they would agree to stop
their quarrel, they could then both go to work. Most of the food in this
house was coffee without sugar, corn bread, and sometimes bacon. But the
coffee was the greatest luxury which these people knew. The only way
of obtaining it was by seizing skins, or, in particular, "sang,"
that is ginseng
4
, which found a market
in far-off China.

My path all to-day led me along the leafy banks of the Hiwassee
5
, a most impressive mountain river. Its channel is
very rough, as it crosses the edges of upturned rock strata, some of them
standing at right angles, or glancing off obliquely to right and left.
Thus a multitude of short, resounding cataracts are produced, and the river
is restrained from the headlong speed due to its volume and the inclination
of its bed.

All the larger streams of uncultivated countries are mysteriously charming
and beautiful, whether flowing in mountains or through swamps and plains.
Their channels are interestingly
sculptured, far more so than the
grandest architectural works of man. The finest of the forests are usually
found along their banks, and in the multitude of falls and rapids the wilderness
finds a voice. Such a river is the Hiwassee, with its surface broken to
a thousand sparkling gems, and its forest walls vine-draped and flowery
as Eden. And how fine the songs it sings!

In Murphy [North Carolina] I was hailed by the sheriff who could not
determine by my colors and rigging to what country or craft I belonged.
Since the war, every other stranger in these lonely parts is supposed to
be a criminal, and all are objects of curiosity or apprehensive concern.
After a few minutes' conversation with this chief man of Murphy I was pronounced
harmless, and invited to his house, where for the first time since leaving
home I found a house decked with flowers and vines, clean within and without,
and stamped with the comforts of culture and refinement in all its arrangements.
Striking contrast to the uncouth
transitionist establishments from
the wigwams of savages to the clumsy but clean log castle of the thrifty
pioneer.

September 20.
All day among the groves and gorges of Murphy with
Mr. Beale. Was shown the site of Camp Butler where General Scott had
his headquarters when he removed the Cherokee Indians to a new home in
the West. Found a number of rare and strange plants on the rocky banks
of the river Hiwassee. In the afternoon, from the summit of a commanding
ridge, I obtained a magnificent view of blue, softly curved mountain scenery.
Among the trees I saw
Ilex
[Holly] for the first time. Mr. Beale
informed me that the paleness of most of the women in his neighborhood,
and the mountains in general hereabouts, was caused chiefly by smoking
and by what is called "dipping." I had never even heard of dipping.
The term simply describes the application of snuff to the gum by means
of a small swab.

September 21.
Most luxuriant forest. Many brooks running across
the road. Blairsville
[Georgia], which I passed in the forenoon, seems
a shapeless and insignificant village, but grandly encircled with banded
hills. At night I was cordially received by a farmer whose wife, though
smart and neat in her appearance, was an inveterate smoker.

September
22. Hills becoming small, sparsely covered with soil.
They are called "knob land" and are cultivated, or scratched,
with a kind of one-tooth cultivator. Every rain robs them of their fertility,
while the bottoms are of course correspondingly enriched. About noon I
reached the last mountain summit on my way to the sea. It is called the
Blue Ridge and before it lies a prospect very different from any I had
passed, namely, a vast uniform expanse of dark pine woods, extending to
the sea; an impressive view at any time and under any circumstances, but
particularly so to one emerging from the mountains.

Traveled in the wake of three poor but merry mountaineers
-- an old woman,
a young woman, and a young man
-- who sat, leaned, and lay
in the box
of a shackly wagon that seemed to be held together by spiritualism, and
was kept in agitation by a very large and a very small mule. In going down
hill the looseness of the harness and the joints of the wagon allowed the
mules to back nearly out of sight beneath the box, and the three who occupied
it were slid against the front boards in a heap over the mules' ears. Before
they could unravel their limbs from this unmannerly and impolite disorder,
a new ridge in the road frequently tilted them with a swish and a bump
against the back boards in a mixing that was still more grotesque.

I expected to see man, women, and mules mingled in piebald ruin at the
bottom of some rocky hollow, but they seemed to have full confidence in
the back board and front board of the wagon-box. So they continued to slide
comfortably up and down, from end to end, in slippery obedience to the
law of gravitation, as the grades demanded. Where the jolting was moderate,
they engaged in conversation on
love, marriage, and camp-meeting,
according to the custom of the country. The old lady, through all the vicissitudes
of the transportation, held a bouquet of French marigolds.

The hillsides hereabouts were bearing a fine harvest of asters. Reached
Mount Yonah in the evening. Had a long conversation with an old Methodist
slaveholder and mine owner. Was hospitably refreshed with a drink of fine
cider.

Notes:

Alphonso Wood,
Class-book of Botany, with
a Flora of the United States and Canada.
The copy of this work, carried
by Mr. Muir on his wanderings, is still extant.
The edition is that of 1862.

The previously mentioned
copy of Wood's Botany, used
by John Muir, quotes on the title page I Kings 4:33:
"He spake of trees,
from the cedar of Lebanon even unto the hyssop that springeth out
of the wall."

Wood's Botany, edition
of 1862, furnishes the following interesting comment on
Liatris odoratissima
(Willd.), popularly known as Vanilla Plant or Deer's Tongue: "The
fleshy leaves exhale a rich fragrance even for years after they are dry,
and are therefore by the southern planters largely mixed with their cured
tobacco, to impart its fragrance to that nauseous weed."

Muir's journal contains the following
additional note: "M. County produces $5000 worth a year of ginseng
root, valued at seventy cents a pound. Under the law it is not allowed
to be gathered until the first of September."

In his journal Muir spells
the name "Hiawassee," a form which
occurs on many of the older maps. The name probably is derived from the
Cherokee Indian "Ayuhwasi," a name applied to several of their
former settlements.